Making Tomorrow's Headlines
by Ostrich on a Rampage
Summary: When Jack gets news that Katherine just had their second child, he and Crutchie must travel back to New York from England. However, a journey across the ocean will not be as simple as either man expects.
1. Chapter 1

**So, post this on May 11th... Heh heh... Yeah, I'm a couple of days early, sue me. (No, please don't. I'm a poor, starving college student). I had the choice between writing this and my final essay for my history class. Clearly, this won. By a long shot. Soooo, here it is. Hopefully, my professor doesn't mind. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story. I'm probably a little too excited for it.**

* * *

April 9, 1912

"I hate this weather," Jack Kelly muttered, setting his paint brush down.

"Really?" Crutchie asked. He hobbled across the room to the window, staring out at the soft, gray clouds. It had been drizzling all morning and the bright green grass in the yard before them trembled at the touch of the water. To Crutchie, it almost looked like the grass was waving at him, beckoning him outside. "I love it. It's cleaner, fresher than New York." He turned back to Jack. "I could stay here forever."

Jack snorted, "Yeah, well, I can't. I'm quite thankful that we're going back home in a week or two."

It was thirteen years after the strike and Jack had found true success in his art. So much success, in fact, that he had gone to England to sell some of his art there, while also getting new inspiration for pieces. Originally, Katherine, his wife of nine years, had planned to go with him to England, but after she discovered that their second child would be due near the time of the trip, she elected to stay in New York and not risk a sea voyage. So, Crutchie had joined his long-time friend on his journey to England in place of Katherine. And, unlike Jack, he was enjoying every minute of it.

"It's just so green," Crutchie breathed, staring out the window. "I wish New York was as green as this."

Jack finally stood up and joined his friend, staring out the window. Crutchie was correct. It was much greener and much more beautiful than the city that Jack and Crutchie hailed from. "I wish Katherine were here to see this…"

Crutchie glanced up at Jack. "I'm sure you guys can return," he suggested. "Once the baby comes along. I'll even stay and watch the kids for you. I can take more time off at Giuseppe's, if you need me to." Crutchie had found a job at a local restaurant, Giuseppe's, as a greeter, of sorts. He'd lead the customers to a booth or table and make small conversation with them until the waiter showed up to take orders. Crutchie had immediately become a favorite at the small Italian restaurant and was loved and recognized by all the regulars. He joked that, without him, the restaurant would be forgotten and overlooked, that the customers only came to converse with him. This was, actually, partly true because the only good food at Giuseppe's was their bread sticks that are so drenched in olive oil, the customer can't even taste the over-utilization of baking soda.

"I don't know how much Katherine would have wanted to come out here anyway. She's afraid of the ocean. Worried about drowning and all that," Jack explained, sitting down again at his easel.

"What're the odds of drowning?" Crutchie asked. "Gotta be low, right? I haven't heard much of ships sinking and people dying."

Jack shrugged, adding a touch of a more vibrant green to the landscape he was working on. "I don't care much. It's not really our problem."

"But, Jack, if people are dying—" Crutchie began.

"Look, Crutch, I paint. That's my job. I don't really have time to worry about death if I'm going to earn a living for Katherine, Elizabeth, and I. And the new baby, when he or she comes." Jack frowned as he thought of his wife and daughter, back in New York. He missed Katherine more than he had thought he would. Jack couldn't wait to return to New York and see her again, to hold her, to feel her hands in his once more. And then there was his daughter, Elizabeth. She had bright red hair like her mother, but soulful brown eyes like Jack. Elizabeth had just turned four and was certain that she was right about everything. It didn't help that Uncle Crutchie spoiled her and adored her to an excess. Elizabeth looked up to Crutchie so much that she ended up asking her father for a crutch for her fourth birthday, so that she could imitate her favorite uncle. Crutchie had laughed when Jack told him and had obliged Elizabeth's wishes by finding a small crutch, just her size. Now the young girl toddled around with the crutch in hand, laughing.

Crutchie shrugged, recognizing when Jack would not back down from an argument. Instead, he decided to bring up a topic that would certainly bring Jack back into good spirits. "I can't wait to meet the new baby."

Jack did grin, much to Crutchie's pleasure, before agreeing, "Neither can I. In fact, that reminds me… I should probably go see if she sent me a telegram. She said she'd keep me updated as much as she could about the baby."

"Okay, I'll come, too," Crutchie said, hobbling over to the coat stand and grabbing the wool coat he had purchased when they first landed in Southampton. As much as he loved the rain, the cold did not help his gimp leg at all, making it stiff and sore. Although Crutchie always felt somewhat idiotic—having to pull on the thick wool coat while everyone else on the streets settled for nothing at all, or, if need be, a thin jacket—he knew that he would be thankful for the extra warmth.

Once he had buttoned up the coat, Crutchie followed Jack outside of the small cottage they had called home for the past week and a half. An older lady, Mrs. Witherby, would rent out her cottage to vacationers and Jack and Crutchie had found her home to be the perfect place to spend their time in England. Jack had even painted Mrs. Witherby a picture of her house, which she had proceeded to proudly hang up in the entrance way, telling anyone who dropped by that one her nicest clients had painted it just for her.

Jack walked toward the main part of town at a leisurely pace, making sure that Crutchie could match his strides. He shivered against the light drizzle that misted the morning. Jack wished it would either rain or not; he just wanted to the weather to make up its mind and stick to it, just quit this in-between nonsense. He blinked rain drops out of his eyes, pushing on faster to get out of the gloom. Crutchie hurried to match the speed.

The two friends arrived at the post office rather quickly, Jack entering with no hesitation. Crutchie followed, only pausing to briefly shake off the excess moisture on his coat and unbutton it as to not overheat in the warm building. Jack went up to the counter, immediately inquiring, "Telegram for Jack Kelly?"

The boy who manned the desk looked up briefly. He looked to be about nineteen with large brown eyes and sandy blonde hair. "Let me look, sir."

"Huh," Crutchie huffed, "Imagine you bein' called 'sir.'" He shook his head, grinning at Jack. "Didn't think you'd ever have a title like that."

"It's not a title," Jack responded. "It's respect. I'm older—"

Crutchie quickly interrupted, "Ain't that the truth. You hit thirty a couple months ago and, Jack, I've been looking at these headstones and I think you might like this one that—"

Jack glared half-heartedly at his best friend. "It won't be too long until you hit thirty, too, Mister."

"I still got two years to go and I plan to enjoy my youth as much as I can."

"I'm youthful," Jack basically whined.

Crutchie grinned even wider. "See, that's not the word I'd use. More like… immature?"

Jack stuck his tongue out at the younger man, the retort he had planned dying instantly when the boy behind the counter cleared his throat. "Uh, yes, we have a telegram for you, Mr. Kelly." He handed Jack a piece of paper and Jack's eyes skimmed over the brief message, widening by the end.

BABY CAME EARLY STOP BEATIFUL BOY STOP WE ARE BOTH OKAY BUT MISS YOU STOP PLEASE COME HOME AT EARLIEST CONVENIENCE STOP

K KELLY

"It's a boy!" Jack exclaimed, turning to Crutchie.

Crutchie clapped his hand on Jack's shoulder, his grin growing even wider. "That's fantastic, Jack."

"It's a boy…" Jack breathed again. He was suddenly gripped with an uncontrollable need to see his new son, to swim the ocean back to New York if he needed to. He missed Katherine, Elizabeth, and now his son terribly. Jack turned to Crutchie, urgency tightening his voice. "Get tickets for the next ship that sails. Now. I've gotta see my son."

"I left most of my money back at Mrs. Witherby's," Crutchie pointed out. "I won't be able to get any fancy tickets or nothing."

"I don't care if we have to cling to the side of the ship, Crutch, I just need to get off this blasted island and back to New York."

"Okay, okay," Crutchie said, smiling slightly. "Anxious father, I get it. I'll be back as soon as I have tickets." He nodded at the telegram in Jack's hand. "Congratulations, Jack. Send her something back, let her know that we're leaving as soon as possible."

Jack watched Crutchie hobble out of the office, rebuttoning his coat as he braved the chill England air. After his friend was out of eye sight, Jack turned back to the clerk. "I need to send a telegram to New York," he informed the boy.

The kid nodded, handing Jack a sheet to write down his message. "I figured. Congratulations on the baby, though. That's exciting."

"Thanks," Jack muttered, gripping the pen as he pondered what to tell Katherine. There were so many things he wanted to say: he loved her desperately, missed her, yearned to see her and hold her again. And then their children. Young Elizabeth and now his son. A son! He had no idea how to craft the thousands of thoughts flitting through his mind into a small telegram. After much too long deliberating, Jack penned a couple short sentences, before handing the paper back to the clerk with the couple of bills that would pay for the telegram.

SO EXCITED STOP CRUTCHIE AND I LEAVING AS SOON AS POSSIBLE STOP LOVE YOU MORE THAN I CAN SAY STOP LOVE TO ELIZABETH AND MY SON ALSO STOP BE THERE SHORTLY STOP

J KELLY

The clerk smiled slightly at the telegram, looking up just as Jack was exiting the building. "Hey!" he called out, stopping the older man in his tracks. Jack looked back at him curiously, reaching for his wallet in case he had underpaid. The clerk cracked a grin, before saying, "Thirty ain't that old. Don't let your friend tell you otherwise."

Jack returned the grin, before leaving the post office to find Crutchie.

* * *

After searching Southampton for a good thirty minutes, Jack figured that Crutchie would just return to the cottage after he had gotten the tickets. He got back to their room and started attacking the painting he had been working on with fresh fervor. Although the art hadn't been coming together the way Jack had initially visualized earlier that morning, after receiving the news about his son, the excitement was able to translate perfectly into what he had envisioned. With swift strokes, Jack added the slight curve of the eyes—Katherine's eyes. What had supposed to be a painting of a mother and a child and quickly shifted to a painting of Katherine with their new child. She beamed down at the boy, who slept soundly, his face turned into Katherine's arms. Jack wished he knew what his son looked like, so he could paint the child smiling or cooing.

The sound of the door closing alerted Jack to Crutchie's presence. He glanced up at his friend, who was pulling the heavy wool coat off. His hair was slicked to his scalp with rain water. "It really started pouring out there," Crutchie explained, making his way to the bed where he proceeded to pull his boots off.

Jack watched him expectantly, noticing the excitement that seemed to simply radiate from the younger man. "Well?" he began, recognizing that Crutchie wasn't going to reveal his findings without some promptings.

"I'm sorry I took so long. Stopped back at the post office to send a telegram to George. You remember George, right? He's one of the waiters at Giuseppe's and he absolutely loves ships. When I told him I was coming to England with you, he sat me down and talked about the ship we were taking for over an hour; he told me what company made it, how it was made, all that. So, when I got the tickets—which I did, stop looking so anxious—I had to stop and send him a quick telegram about it. He's going to be so excited. George won't want to hear about England or nothing when I get back, just the ship we're taking back home."

"Which is?" Jack asked.

Crutchie grinned, pulling two third class tickets from his shirt pocket. "They were hard to come by, let me tell you, and I could only afford third class, but I landed us tickets for the most talked about ship in the world."

Jack sincerely doubted that this ship Crutchie was so excited about was "the most talked about in the world," but he was really curious to know how they would be making it back to New York. He grabbed one of the tickets from Crutchie's hand. "The _Titanic_?" he asked, reading the name inscribed on the boarding pass.

"Yeah, the _Titanic_. This'll be riding in style, much more than some palomino." Crutchie's grin widened even more, if possible. "And it's the maiden voyage, too, Jack! She sets out tomorrow. Boy, we'll be making headlines tomorrow for sure."

"Huh," Jack said, flipping the ticket over and observing it. "The _Titanic_." For some reason, the name of the ship just felt right on his tongue. "Here's to our next adventure, I suppose."

Crutchie eagerly agreed. "Here's to the _Titanic_!"

* * *

 **Well, if you couldn't tell from the date at the start of this story, I'm sure you can basically see where this is going now. I was surprised that no one else has attempted a Titanic fic for Newsies. (If there is some, please tell me. I didn't see them and I'd love to read what other authors did.) All I've been seeing are WWI fics and those are fantastic; I'm all for sending the boys to war, but guys. The. Titanic. That is literally one of the biggest tragedies in history. And it's only thirteen years after the strike! Anyway, I hope you all like the story. Reviews are always welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it took me so long to update this. I finally moved out of my dorm up at college and I'm back at home so I've been doing literally everything with my family before I leave for my new job next week. The next couple chapters will be posted so much quicker since I really do have a deadline. Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy it!**

* * *

"And hear this: they say that it's completely unsinkable, that this is the first ship that is guaranteed to make it to the ends of the earth! All without springing a leak! Imagine that…"

Jack glanced up, sensing that Crutchie's rant about the _Titanic_ was drawing to a close. Apparently, when Crutchie had bought their tickets, he was also given a pamphlet with a couple facts about the ship that they would be making their voyage across the Atlantic Ocean on. Crutchie had spent the past half hour, going over the facts, reading the pamphlet word for word and then positing his own opinion on the ship. "It does sound quite spectacular," Jack admitted, turning back to the final suitcase he had to pack. He tossed in the last pile of Crutchie's shirts, before finally leaning back against the side of the bed.

"This is the opportunity of a life time!" Crutchie asserted, looking through the pamphlet once more, trying to commit all the facts to memory. "I just can't believe we're going to be some of the first people to ride it, y'know? They'll probably interview us when we get back to New York; we could be in the newspaper all over again! I can see the headline now: Leader of the Newsboy Strike of 1899 and Friend Cross the Atlantic Ocean on the Famed Titanic. Katherine could probably write a decent article and then maybe people'd ask for our autographs and stuff like that."

"It's just a ship," Jack pointed out.

"Yes, but it's _the_ ship." Crutchie flopped back on the bed, reflipping through the pamphlet. "If you can't tell, I'm very excited."

"Oh," Jack replied, grinning, "Trust me, I can tell." He pushed the suitcase to the side. "Also, thanks for helping me pack," he told Crutchie pointedly.

Crutchie glanced at the suitcases, before widening his eyes almost pleadingly in Jack's direction. "I've got a gimp leg, Jack. I couldn't possibly—"

"Don't give me that bull, Crutch. Packing does not require two perfectly healthy legs. Besides, when did you ever let your bad leg get you down?"

"Someone told me it's never too late to change," Crutchie pointed out.

Jack rolled his eyes. "I think that's meant for changing into someone better, not annoying your best friend."

"I don't think a quote like that should be so explicitly defined. Maybe it means something different to me than to you."

"Crutchie, you sound like a child."

"Sorry for enjoying life," Crutchie muttered faking petulance, but still fighting a smile. However, his smile fell and he went quiet, losing himself to his thoughts. "Sometimes," he began, slightly softer, "I feel like you never have fun anymore, Jack. I get that you have a family and a job and you need to keep up appearances, but…" here he trailed off, making eye contact with Jack briefly, before looking away. He ended his thoughts with a soft, "Never mind."

Jack shot Crutchie a quizzical look. "What do you mean?" He didn't feel as if he had changed or grown more serious.

Crutchie shrugged, turning back to the pamphlet. "Never mind that, Jack. I just can't believe that in a few short hours we'll be on the _Titanic_. Did I tell you about how many people it can hold?"

"Yes, but, Crutch, if I'm really not—"

Jack was cut off by Mrs. Witherby's entry into the room. "Oh, sorry, boys," she apologized, her thick English accent widening Crutchie's grin. "I didn't mean to interrupt. If you want, I can come back later…"

"No, it's fine," Crutchie said, getting up off the bed. "How can we help you?"

"Oh, I was just going to let you know that I made the both of you breakfast. I want you to have a good meal before you board that fancy ship."

"You didn't have to do that," Crutchie quickly said.

"I know." Mrs. Witherby smiled. "I wanted to do something nice for you boys, though. You've been so kind to me."

"You're the one that's been boarding us," Jack pointed out, also standing up. "Thank you again for that."

Mrs. Witherby smiled. "Well, yes, but you remind me of my son. Both of you, actually. He—" she cut herself off as she noticed the painting Jack had been working on the day earlier. He had meant to pack it, but hadn't gotten around to it as of yet, having just finished with their clothing. "This," Mrs. Witherby began, gesturing to the painting of Katherine and his new son, "is a work of art. It makes me think of—" Once again, Mrs. Witherby cut herself off, forcing a smile on her face. "Well, never mind."

Jack glanced at the painting. He had meant for it to be a gift for Katherine, but he could also tell that it meant a lot to the older lady. "You can have it, if you want," Jack offered.

"I couldn't…" Mrs. Witherby said, gazing at the painting almost longingly. Jack could tell she was refusing only to be polite.

"No, really," Jack insisted. Once he got back to New York, Jack resolved to paint a new one for Katherine. That way, he'd actually know what his son looked like and could include the boy's face in the picture.

"Thank you," Mrs. Witherby breathed, stepping closer and examining the picture, studying how the curves turned ordinary paint into a lovely picture of a mother and her child. "What was your inspiration?"

Jack grinned. "My wife just, well, just welcomed a new son into our family."

Mrs. Witherby's eyes shot up to Jack's. "Oh, well, then I couldn't take this picture. If it's of your wife and—"

"Don't worry about it. I'll paint her a new one when I get home. Katherine likes to watch me paint, so she'd probably enjoy it more that way anyhow."

"Well, in that case, congratulations." Mrs. Witherby glanced at the painting once more, before motioning for Jack and Crutchie to follow her. "Now, you two best come along before your breakfast gets cold."

"Yes, ma'am," Crutchie agreed eagerly, always excited about the prospect of food.

Jack followed Mrs. Witherby and Crutchie, reminding the younger man, "Okay, but we will need to leave soon. The _Titanic_ begins boarding at 9:30."

Crutchie nodded. "And we can't be late for that. Jack, this is the opportunity of a lifetime."

"I know, Crutch. Trust me, I'm plenty excited too."

* * *

"It's so big," Crutchie breathed, pausing to glance up at the ship they would be sailing back to New York in. "Look at that, Jack, it's immense!"

Jack grinned at his younger friend. "I can see it, Crutch." He gently shoved Crutchie in the direction of the boat. "Now, get a move on, if you want to actually get on the boat before they leave."

"We've got time," Crutchie pointed out. "They won't leave until around noon, I think the pamphlet said." Tossing a grin in Jack's direction, Crutchie added, "I can get it out, if you want me to double check."

"No, that's fine. I've learned plenty from it already."

The two friends approached the boat, joining the long line of passengers that waited to board the grand ship. There were men in dark hats standing at the side of the line and examining each of the boarding passes that the passenger held. Depending on the class printed on the boarding pass, each passenger would be directed to enter through a separate door. Jack and Crutchie both showed their boarding passes to a man with a thick bushy moustache when he approached them. "Third class," the man read in a monotone voice. "You'll be entering through that door," he explained, pointing to a line that was growing rapidly as more passengers joined the ranks.

"Thank you, sir," Crutchie said, grabbing his suitcase and making his way towards the end of the line. Jack followed suit, noticing that the moustached man only grunted in response to Crutchie's earnest words.

Just as Crutchie was reaching his and Jack's place in line, his crutch got stuck in the crack between two of the cobblestones in the road, pitching the young man forward. In an attempt to catch himself, Crutchie threw his left hand forward, only succeeding in slamming his suitcase in the back of the woman in front of him and landing face first into the street.

"Crutchie!" Jack called out in alarm, hurrying to help his friend up.

"Sorry," Crutchie grunted as Jack assisted him to his feet.

"For what?" Jack asked.

"Not you, idiot. The girl. Sorry," Crutchie repeated, making eye contact with the girl in front of them that had turned to see who had so viciously attacked her with a suitcase. She had dark brown hair pulled into a tight bun at the top of her head. Her dark brown eyes studied Crutchie and he immediately felt as if he had to explain the situation they had suddenly found themselves in. "I kinda tripped," he added sheepishly as explanation.

The girl's eyes traveled from Crutchie's blushing face to the crutch and back to Crutchie's eyes. "Oh, that's okay. I'm Eliza," she introduced herself, sticking out her hand to shake.

"I'm Crutchie," he replied, shaking her hand.

Eliza glanced back at the crutch, biting back a smile. "Makes sense."

"And this is my friend, Jack," Crutchie added, jerking his head to the side where Jack stood.

"Nice to meet you," Jack said, shaking Eliza's outstretched hand. "What brings you on the _Titanic_?" he asked.

Eliza laughed bitterly. "Just need to start somewhere new. America's the place of dreams. You two are from there, I'm guessing?"

"Our accents are that obvious?" Crutchie asked. "Damn, I was really trying to get a British accent down before we got back."

"What brought you here in the first place?"

"Jack's an artist," Crutchie explained proudly. "He was over here just painting. I came along so he wouldn't get lost or nothing."

"Next!" the shout from a steward up ahead preempted Eliza's response to Crutchie's comment. She stepped forward, showing her boarding pass to the steward before being ushered inside. Eliza turned to Jack and Crutchie, shooting them a grin. "I suppose I'll see you around. Jack," she nodded in his direction. "Crutchie," she nodded towards Crutchie, her grin widening only slightly.

After she had disappeared into the ship and the steward was examining Jack and Crutchie's tickets, Crutchie belatedly called out after Eliza. "Yeah, see ya."

The two friends were ushered into a room with three different stairwells leading to the third class rooms. Sleek metal outfitted the room and wooden floors gleamed as untouched wood does. As Jack and Crutchie made their way down the stairs, Jack spoke up. "Eliza is a good looking young woman, dontcha think, Crutchie?"

"Shut up," Crutchie grumbled. "Where's our room at, anyhow?" He ignored the way Jack's smile stretched even further at the way Crutchie attempted to sidestep the conversation. Crutchie, instead, focused on finding the room number that matched the one on their tickets. "Ah, here it is," he announced, coming to a stop outside of one of the many matching doors in the hallway.

Jack swung open the door, revealing a small room with two beds and a dresser for clothes shoved into the corner. "It's certainly quaint," Jack said softly. He didn't really know what he had been expecting. After all of Crutchie's talk about the _Titanic_ and its grandeur, Jack had been hoping for a little more when it came to the room. He did have to admit, though, that it was nice for third class.

"Quaint?" Crutchie asked in disbelief. "This is fantastic. "Look how much room there is! And to think of the amount of third class rooms they've gotta have and they're all this size? It just shows how massive the _Titanic_ really is, y'know."

"Imagine first class, though. Or even second class," Jack pointed out.

"It's probably like being king or something," Crutchie agreed.

The two friends sat in silence for a few brief moments, before Crutchie spoke up. "I really can't believe we're on the _Titanic_. This is really happening."

"It's just a ship," Jack laughed.

"I know that, but it just feels different. Like, something special's going to happen here."

Jack shook his head at Crutchie's assertion. "Yeah, well, I suppose we'll find out soon enough."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, everyone. So, I made a mistake in the last chapter about their room. Third class is supposed to have two bunk beds and I just gave them a room to themselves. Oops. So, if you caught that, fantastic. If not, now you know. I'm not going to change it because a) I'm lazy and b) it doesn't really matter for the plot and c) I'm very lazy. Anyway, this story is drawing to a close. Just one more chapter, probably. We'll see. I'll try to update on Friday, so, yeah, read on, my ostriches. (Holy crap, that was a lot of commas...)**

* * *

Crutchie maneuvered his way to where Jack had already sat down with his plate of food. He had already had three people come up to him and offer to carry his plate to a table, but Crutchie didn't really see the point of their worry. As Crutchie had explained each time, he still had a perfectly good left hand. Finally getting within earshot of Jack, Crutchie called out, "Did you see all the food they've got here? And to think that this is third class. I bet the first class people are eating snails and… I don't know, whatever rich people eat." Crutchie sat down next to his friend. "What do they eat?"

"Other than snails?" Jack asked, trying to keep a straight face.

"Other than snails." Crutchie rolled his eyes. "Do you think they get strawberries?"

"We're getting strawberries, numbskull."

"I know that, but this is special. Do you think they have strawberries for every meal? Breakfast, lunch, and dinner?" Crutchie asked, tearing the roll he had grabbed and dipping it in mashed potatoes and gravy. He had decided to save the strawberries for desert, excited at the prospect of having fruit that was often too expensive to purchase on a daily basis.

Jack shrugged. "Maybe. Do I look rich?"

"You did just sail to England for your art, so clearly you're doing somewhat well." Crutchie ended his defense by frowning pointedly at Jack before attacking the chicken breast with fervor. "This is really good," he said around a giant piece of chicken that Crutchie was forced to push in his cheek in order to even attempt speaking. "Have you tasted it yet?"

"Yes, I have," Jack replied, his eyes crinkling as he tried not to laugh. "I still can't believe that this is third class. I thought we'd have to pack our own food."

Crutchie swallowed his chicken, turning to the second fresh-baked roll he had grabbed. "Yeah, and they've got meat, too. I swear, Jack, I just want to live on the _Titanic_ for the rest of my life. D'you think they'd take me on as a sailor or something? Or maybe I could just hide in one of the bunks and be some sort of permanent passenger."

"I'm pretty sure that's illegal," Jack observed.

"The law doesn't scare me. Nothing does, actually," Crutchie explained around a mouthful of bread, puffing out his chest in some strange form of bravado.

"Hey, guys," Eliza said, plunking her plate and cup down on Crutchie's right and sitting next to him. "Isn't this food fantastic?"

Crutchie nearly choked on the roll in his mouth, the bread lodging itself in his throat. He swallowed uncomfortably, feeling the lump scratch its way down his esophagus. Crutchie immediately gulped down a couple swallows of water before speaking up, his voice cracking slightly, "Uh, hey, Eliza."

Jack put up a valiant effort in order to keep from smiling, but eventually the wide grin broke through. "The food's great. I didn't really expect anything like this for third class."

"I know and—" Eliza fell silent as she noticed one last strawberry on Crutchie's plate. "There were strawberries?" she asked, suddenly quieter. "They must've been all taken before I got in line."

Crutchie stared at the strawberry, as if the small red fruit held the answers to the situation he had found himself in. Jack gently nudged Crutchie, jerking his head in Eliza's direction. "What? I—"

Jack cut his friend off with a sharp hiss. "Share, idiot."

"Oh…" Crutchie could feel his face brightening, that all too familiar burning feeling crawling from his neck to his cheeks and ending at the tips of his ears. "Would you like my strawberry, Eliza?"

"Thank you, Crutchie," Eliza said, gently taking the strawberry from his plate and making sure that her fingertips brushed against his hand. Crutchie's head shot up at the touch, his wide eyes making contact with hers.

"Um, well, you're, ah, you're welcome," Crutchie stammered, very, very flustered.

Trying to keep from laughing at Crutchie's clear discomfort, Eliza asked the two men, "So, are you going to the dance tonight?"

"D-dance?" Crutchie stuttered.

"Yeah, what's this about a dance?" Jack asked.

Eliza finished the strawberry, putting the leaves on the side of her plate. "See, this guy brought his fiddle and he's planning on fiddling—is that the verb?—around on it and there's going to be dancing in the General Room. People are going to start gathering around seven, or so I heard." She smiled at Jack and Crutchie, the latter who kept his head ducked and found an unparalleled amount of interest in the carpet. "Are you going to go?"

When Crutchie remained silent, Jack answered for the both of them. "Yeah, we'll be there. And you?"

Eliza nodded. "I was planning on it. I look forward to seeing the two of you there." Eliza glanced at her empty plate before looking back up at Jack. "Well, I'm stuffed. I'd best be back to my room and getting ready for the dance. See you later."

"See you later," Jack replied.

Crutchie muttered a soft, "Good-bye," earning a grin from Eliza. Not that he noticed, having just decided that, yes, the _Titanic_ 's carpet was undoubtedly expensive.

After Eliza had left the dining saloon, Jack nudged Crutchie playfully in the side. "So, a dance. With Eliza." He raised his eyebrow meaningfully at Crutchie, who chose to ignore his friend and stand up. "She likes you, Crutch."

"She's just making friends."

"I don't know. She seemed awfully friendly for 'just making friends,'" Jack pointed out, grinning wildly.

"That doesn't make a lick of sense, Jack. And if we're going to go to this dance you rather abruptly dragged us into, I think we should at least take the time to freshen up a bit." With that comment, Crutchie walked away, his back to Jack in an effort to get Jack's vivacious smile out of sight and, therefore, out of mind.

Jack's grin only widened. Maybe Crutchie's words the day earlier were more of a premonition than wishful thinking. It certainly seemed as something special was going to happen.

* * *

"This is stupid," Crutchie grumbled, staring at the small mirror that their room was equipped with.

"Why? I think you look great," Jack supplied from where he was seated on the bed, tying his shoes. After a good bit of arguing and teasing, Jack had convinced Crutchie that he needed to wear more of a dress shirt and Crutchie had reluctantly changed from his blue shirt and vest to a white shirt.

"I don't even know why we're going to this. Neither of us can really dance," Crutchie pointed out. Before Jack could protest, Crutchie explained, "And don't try to deny that. I was there when Katherine tried to teach you how to waltz."

Jack glared half-heartedly at his friend. "I've gotten better."

Crutchie snorted. "I'm sure."

Rolling his eyes, Jack ignored Crutchie's comment, before glancing at his watch. "Hey, it's just past seven. Do you want to head over to the General Room?"

"Well, no, but I have this strange feeling that you're going to force me to go anyway."

"It'll be fun, Crutch. Besides, there'll probably be food and drink there, so that's always a good thing."

With an over-exaggerated sigh, Crutchie allowed Jack to lead him from the room. "You know," he pointed out to his older friend, "I'm just not going to have any fun. No fun at all. It'll just be a drag and when we get back to New York we can have a real party with Katherine and all the boys. That'd be real fun. Much more than this."

"You don't even know what's going to happen."

"I can imagine it won't be fun."

Jack shook his head. Sometimes Crutchie could be a little too obstinate. He ignored the half-muttered grumbles Crutchie had settled for and instead focused on how to reach the General Room. He never seemed to be able to navigate around the ship, constantly getting lost. And it wasn't as if there were even that many hallways to confuse him. After only three wrong turns and two half-hearted insults from Crutchie, they reached the General Room.

Inside, a man with bright red hair was sawing away at his fiddle, singing some old Irish tune. The only line Crutchie could make out above the clapping and dancing was "but you'll find in old Ireland there's good men and dogs" before the words dwindled into inaudible nonsense. "This was exactly what I was looking forward to," Crutchie informed Jack, the sarcasm drenching his words. "Songs about dogs and Irish men."

"Look how much fun everyone's having. You could be having fun, too."

Crutchie rolled his eyes, when he felt Jack grab his hand and gently tug him towards the middle of the room where the majority of the dancing was taking place. Except… it didn't entirely feel like Jack's hand, which was calloused with thick, strong fingers. No, the callouses in this hand were all out of place and the fingers were thinner, smoother. Crutchie immediately jerked his hand from Eliza's, startled. "What are you—" he cut himself off, deciding to start the conversation in a more civil manner. "Hello, Eliza. What do you think you are doing?"

"I just thought you might like to dance." Eliza had changed into a dark green dress that appeared to have been mended a couple times. It still looked stunning, in Crutchie's opinion.

"I can't," Crutchie said, gesturing to his leg. "I've got a bum leg. Dancing ain't much of an option."

"I'm not expecting an Irish jig," Eliza said.

Crutchie hesitated. "I don't know. I don't really think that I'd be any good."

Jack spoke up. "When have you ever let your leg get you down? You ain't no crip, Crutchie."

"Come on," Eliza implored. "It'll be fun."

"Fine," Crutchie relented, no match up against the combined pleadings of Jack and Eliza. "But, I will warn you that I'll most likely just be standing there."

"No," Eliza said firmly. "I expect, at the very least, swaying."

Crutchie smiled. "I suppose I could try to sway."

"In time with the music."

"Don't make it impossible, Eliza."

Eliza laughed, leading Crutchie towards where everyone was dancing. There she stopped to do a small jig type dance that ended with her tripping into a couple beside them. "Well, see," Eliza said, her face burning with embarrassment, "you don't even have much to live up to, dancing-wise."

The fiddler transitioned into a popular two-step dance and Crutchie was forced to turn down Eliza's offer to dance with him. "I'm not going to be able to move that fast," he explained.

Eliza quickly grinned. "Wait right there. I'll be back shortly." She returned with a rickety chair which, she instructed Crutchie to sit in. "May I borrow your crutch?" she asked.

"Um, okay," Crutchie complied, handing over his namesake.

"Thank you," Eliza said, before curtsying to the rod of wood and then tipping the crutch to mimic a bow. With that, Eliza began a quick two-step holding the crutch as her partner. After the dance had ended, she turned back to Crutchie who was holding back laughter. "See, you make a great partner."

"No, my crutch makes a good partner," Crutchie corrected. "I'm sorry to see that my crutch is a better dancer than I am."

"You could try," Eliza suggested, extending her hand to Crutchie. The fiddler had started an old Irish tune, _The Last Rose of Summer_ , a song Crutchie only knew because a girl who lived in an apartment a couple doors down from his had performed an entire concert of Irish songs for the newsies once.

Crutchie smiled timidly, before explaining, "I'll need my crutch."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Eliza responded, clearly flustered.

She handed him his crutch, before helping Crutchie stand across from her. Eliza placed her arms around Crutchie's neck, the closeness shocking both of them. Crutchie gently held Eliza's hip with his left hand, his right hand clenched against the crutch. The pair didn't move much throughout the song, only swaying back and forth, Crutchie too afraid to move and mess up what seemed to be a perfect moment. He worried that Jack was somewhere behind him, laughing at Crutchie, probably taking notes on what to tease Crutchie about the next day. Before Crutchie realized what was happening, Eliza's lips were against his and everything just felt right. For once, Crutchie didn't care if Jack was there, if Jack was watching. Everything was perfect.

Dimly, Crutchie could hear the fiddler's voice trail off as he finished the song, "Oh, who would inhabit this bleak world alone? This bleak world alone…"

* * *

 **Hey, so, wow. Eliza just sorta did that. I swear she wasn't supposed to be a main character and then she just kinda was. Yeah... Anyway, what do you guys think about her? Do you like her, hate her, really don't care? I'm just curious because I've never had an OC love interest and I would like to know how you think I did with this. Please review!**

 **P.S. I have never seen the movie Titanic, so I didn't realize they had a really similar scene in that movie until I was researching stuff about the General Room and crap like that and I found a link to the Titanic scene on YouTube. So, I'm sorry if you think I'm just copying that movie. I'm really not. It's just a huge possibility that something like this would happen in third class. I really wasn't trying to base half my chapter off of that movie, I swear. Sorry for the long Author's Note.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, so Friday, huh... Well, Saturday is basically Friday, so... Anyway, it's been fun, so I'm sad to see this story end, but I'll be back, I swear. It might be a while because I don't know how much internet access I'll have over the summer. (I leave tomorrow; I'm so excited!) But, I'll be back when school starts again. For sure. So, read on, my fellow ostriches.**

* * *

Eliza and Crutchie had been spending as much time together as they could. Jack found this fantastic. Not only was Crutchie always happy, but Jack now had a limitless supply of ways to tease Crutchie. The last couple days had passed with the three friends eating dinner together, Jack nudging Crutchie, playing card games in the General Room together, Jack still nudging Crutchie, and even more dancing. With Jack grinning like an idiot the entire time. Crutchie had been slightly irritated earlier, but he had begun to appreciate Jack's gentle teasing, recognizing it as Jack's way of not being left out. And it wasn't as if Crutchie hadn't teased Jack when he was first dating Katherine.

It was late Sunday night—technically, Monday morning—and Jack and Crutchie had found a group of guys to play poker with. Eliza was sitting between Jack and Crutchie, glancing between both hands. Jack was trying to teach her how to play poker, but she wasn't understanding. "So, you're saying that it's good to have two kings?" Eliza asked Jack loudly, pointing at the cards in his hand.

The two men Jack and Crutchie were playing against immediately announced that they were folding. Crutchie high-fived Eliza before folding also. "That isn't fair," Jack complained, taking his winnings.

"I'm just trying to learn," Eliza said, innocently. She glanced at the clock in the corner of the General Room, noting that it was past 12:30. "I'm going to go to bed," she announced.

"Finally," Jack grumbled. "Now I can actually win."

"Thanks for helping me learn, Jack," Eliza told him, smiling. "I'll see you tomorrow, Crutchie." With that, she left the General Room, rubbing sleepiness from her eyes.

Jack shuffled the cards, distributing them amongst the four men. As they all looked at their cards, Crutchie tried to push back a wide smile. Crutchie had finally gotten a good hand for poker. He tried to keep his grin hidden, but to no avail. The grin broke through, catching Jack's eye.

"Got a good hand over there, Crutch?"

"Shut up," Crutchie muttered, trying to ignore the two queens that smiled up at him. "I once heard that you shouldn't play poker with a good friend and I'm starting to understand why."

"Come on, Crutchie. Anyone can read you. You're grinning like an idiot." Jack winked at Crutchie before announcing, "I think I'll fold."

The two men across from Crutchie and Jack exchanged glances before folding also. "Oh, come on, guys," Crutchie complained, sweeping the beat-up poker chips towards him. "I'm not that obvious, am I?"

"Uh, yeah, Crutch, you are."

Crutchie's retort was lost when the door to the General Room was slammed open and a man in his late forties, by the look of it, burst in. His words stilled the entire room. "The _Titanic_ is sinking!"

The silence only lasted a moment before a man across the room who had probably consumed more beer than was healthy for him began laughing raucously. Every eye in the room turned to him. "Yeah, right!" he shouted, his voice thick with alcohol. "The great unsinkable _Titanic_ , sinking? What a load of bull. Am'I'right?" he asked, slurring the final sentence almost to the point of undecipherability.

The crowd began murmuring, some immediately agreeing with the drunken man, calling it all an elaborate hoax. Others were more hesitant. One bespectacled man spoke up, "But, what if the ship is actually sinking? Shouldn't we make our way to the lifeboats, just in case?"

"And you think that if this grand ship were sinking," the drunken man sputtered, spittle flying from his mouth with each word, "we would have heard about it from only one person? The captain himself would have strolled down here and warned us, dontcha think?"

"I'm not sure—" the man with the glasses began, but he was quickly booed and mocked because of his hesitation.

Crutchie turned to Jack anxiously. "What do we do, Jack? What if the _Titanic_ is sinking?"

"Let's just go check it out. No harm in that. Then if it ends up that everything's okay, we can just go back to our room. I'm pretty done with poker, anyhow."

"Okay, that sounds good," Crutchie agreed. Jack and Crutchie made their way up to the deck of the ship, each one trying to hide the nervous anxiety that had settled in their stomachs. Jack refused to let the worry he was currently feeling become apparent, realizing that Crutchie needed someone to stay calm and clear-headed. Crutchie, on the other hand, tried to quell his fear, worrying that Jack would think less of him for getting so worked up about the possibility of the _Titanic_ sinking.

Upon reaching the deck of the ship, Crutchie and Jack quickly realized that the _Titanic_ was sinking. Chaos was everywhere. Mothers were ushering children toward life boats and sailors were directing passengers around. "We need to tell the others," Crutchie breathed. "They don't know it's sinking."

"There isn't time," Jack said, watching as a life boat was lowered into the dark, icy water. "We need to get on a life boat."

"Jack, I can't swim," Crutchie quickly admitted, his voice taut with fear. "I—I never learned to swim; I couldn't, not with my leg."

"It'll be okay," Jack reassured Crutchie. "If we're in a boat, you won't have to swim." He shot Crutchie a grin that was meant to be reassuring, but was much too strained to appear so.

Crutchie huffed out a slight laugh. "Yeah, I guess so."

The pair approached the lifeboats, only to be viciously shoved away by two ship officers. Crutchie lost his balance and fell to the ground, his bad leg twisting painfully under his weight. "What are you doing?" Jack cried out at the officers, helping Crutchie to his feet.

"Women and children, only," one of the officers explained.

The other officer eyed Jack and Crutchie, before adding, "Besides, who wants any third class rabble taking up precious space?"

"They've got enough life boats, right?" Crutchie asked anxiously, ignoring the painful twinge from his leg when his shifted his weight.

The first, kinder officer, shook his head. "Not for everyone. That's why we're letting women and children on first."

"After that, men can board according to class," the second officer sneered.

"That's not fair!" Crutchie exclaimed, stepping closer to the life boats.

The second officer shoved Crutchie back again, but Jack kept Crutchie upright by gripping his arm. "That's how life works, kid."

"I ain't some kid," Crutchie growled back, slipping back into his old New York accent.

The first officer stepped between his partner and Crutchie. "Hey, calm down, William. The _Carpathia_ is on its way as we speak. Everyone should be fine," he promised. "Once she gets here, we'll be able to transport people from the _Titanic_ to the _Carpathia_."

"Thank you," Jack said, pulling Crutchie away from the officers. "See, it's going to be okay. We're going to be okay. I promise," Jack said, his voice firm. He would do everything he could to make sure that he and Crutchie made it out of there alive.

"Yeah…" Crutchie said quietly, trailing off as he got lost in thought. Then, his head shot up. "Eliza! We gotta find Eliza and make sure she gets in one of the life boats!" he told Jack, desperation coloring his words.

"Do you know where her room is?" Jack asked.

Crutchie shook his head mournfully. "No, but we need to find her. Maybe if we search every room."

"That isn't going to work, Crutchie, and you know it."

"We've got to try something, Jack! I can't just let her go down with the ship."

Jack grabbed Crutchie's shoulders, forcing the younger man to look him straight in the eyes. "She'll be okay, Crutch. She's a woman; she'll be able to get into a life boat. Eliza will be just fine, okay?" When Crutchie didn't respond to Jack's words, he shook his friend, repeating, "Okay?"

"Okay, Jack," Crutchie muttered softly, glancing back at the door they had come up on deck through, fighting every muscle that screamed to go back down and find Eliza before it was too late.

"Listen, Crutch, she's going to be fine. For all we know she might have already gotten into a life boat. We can't waste time worrying about her; we need to focus on ourselves. The only way you'll see Eliza again is if we survive this, right? So, that's what we're going to do. We're going to survive this."

Crutchie sighed, before turning back to Jack. "Okay, you're right. What do we gotta do to survive this?"

"Let's make our way to the stern of the ship. We can wait for the _Carpathia_ there. I'm sure she'll show up soon," Jack put his hand on Crutchie's shoulder to provide the younger man at least some sort of comfort.

"How long will we have to wait?" Crutchie asked, quietly.

"It won't be long now," Jack promised.

The two men stood at the stern of the ship, other passengers who had been denied access to the life boats joined them. Crutchie stared out at the great expanse of the dark ocean. He had never felt smaller, more insignificant than this moment. If he died, if he drowned tonight, would anyone ever find his body? There was so much water, so much darkness. Anyone could be lost out there and never found again. Crutchie shuddered.

Jack noticed the younger man shaking and draped his arm around Crutchie's shoulders, but made no move to break the silence, instead focusing on his own thoughts. It was cold outside, much too cold for Crutchie to just be standing around. His leg would start to cramp and, not only would it hurt him, it would slow him down. Jack knew that if the _Carpathia_ took too long reaching the _Titanic_ , he and Crutchie may have to hurry to board the ship before the _Titanic_ completely sunk. And if Crutchie's leg was cramping— Jack shook his head. He would make sure Crutchie made it to safety, if it was the last thing he did. They'd both be fine, they had to be. Crutchie had Eliza now and Jack…Jack had Katherine and Elizabeth and his new son. They _had_ to survive. Nothing else was acceptable.

Neither man knew how long they had been standing there, lost in their thoughts, when a gunshot sounded, quickly followed by another. "What—" Crutchie began, but was cut off by a third gunshot. "What's going on?" he asked Jack, flinching against the harsh noise.

"I don't know," Jack muttered, scanning the ship. It appeared as if there had been some sort of squabble over by the life boats. "As long as they don't bother us—"

Crutchie interrupted Jack, "People are shooting each other, Jack!"

"And what could the two of us possibly do to stop that? People are going crazy. They're scared, Crutchie!"

"All I'm saying is that we should try to help them," Crutchie muttered.

Jack glanced back to where the life boats were, noticing that the crowd had slowed its surge. "I think it's over," he observed.

"I hope no one died," Crutchie whispered, turning to stare out at the ocean, wondering if he would be able to catch sight of the ship that was supposedly rushing to rescue them.

"I hope so, too," Jack said, his voice just as quiet. It was discomforting that passengers would attack each other like this. That death could come from the fear that permeated the crowd, not just from the depths of the icy ocean.

They remained silent for a while, before Crutchie asked, "Do you think we'll—" However, his question was cut off by a shriek of metal. "What's that?" Crutchie asked anxiously. The ship shifted noticeably, the stern of the ship beginning to raise up into the air. Crutchie grabbed at the nearest railing, his knuckles turning white from the effort. Jack was beside him, gripping the railing also. "It's really sinking," Crutchie breathed. "They… they said it'd be unsinkable. I thought we'd be fine; we'd get home without any problems."

"We're going to be fine," Jack reassured his younger friend. "The _Carpathia_ will be here any moment."

"And if it doesn't show up in time?" Crutchie asked. "I don't want to die."

"You won't." Jack looked Crutchie in the eyes, gave him a small nod of reassurance. They wouldn't die, Jack would make sure of that.

The ship jerked once more, the stern rising higher into the air. Jack and Crutchie tightened their grips on the railing. People on the ship were beginning to scream, the angle becoming more and more awkward as the ship began to noticeably sink. The back end was dipping closer and closer to the water; soon it would be submerged. At this point, all the life boats had been shoved off into the inky darkness. Jack could make out a couple of them illuminated by the lights of the _Titanic_. Just then, the lights of the ship blinked out, the inky darkness consuming everyone. They flickered on once, before remaining dark.

"Jack?" Crutchie asked softly.

"I'm right here."

"I know, but—" Crutchie was cut off by the loud groaning of metal as one of the giant smoke funnels tore off the ship, splashing into the water. The loud sound jolted both Crutchie and Jack, who stared in horror as passengers were crushed and flung into the ocean by the falling funnel. The ship shook and Crutchie lost his grip on his crutch, the rod of wood tumbling into the darkness. "My crutch!" Crutchie called out, reaching to where it fell, before nearly slipping off the railing.

Jack grabbed Crutchie's shirt, hoisting him back up. "You gotta hold on, Crutchie," he told the younger man, his heart pounding as Crutchie resituated his grip on the railing. "We can get you a new crutch later, okay? Just hold on."

Crutchie was clearly shaken by his near fall. "Jack, if I fall—"

"You won't," Jack inserted emphatically.

The ship shook again. More people were falling, screaming, but Jack's attention was on Crutchie, who had begun to laugh, slightly. "You know," Crutchie began, a smile straining his features, "I won't ever be as old as you; I won't ever hit thirty."

"No, Crutch," Jack began, but Crutchie continued.

"It's okay, Jack. I didn't want to be an old man like you, anyhow."

"Look, Crutchie, we're going to hang on until that ship gets here and then we'll—" Jack's words were lost as the ship creaked loudly, splitting between two of the funnels. The ship jolted roughly as it broke, shaking the railing Jack and Crutchie were clinging to. Jack pressed himself against the frigid metal, knowing that if he lost his grip, he'd die, he'd never see Katherine or his children ever again. A sharp gasp beside him tore Jack's attention from himself to Crutchie, who was scrabbling for a hold on the railing, only one hand preventing him from falling into the ocean below. "Crutchie!" Jack yelled, reaching for his best friend, just as Crutchie lost his grip. Jack felt Crutchie's fingertips briefly brush his and then he was gone, disappearing into the icy darkness. Dead, Jack realized. Even if he had survived the fall into the ocean, Crutchie couldn't swim. Jack's heart clenched as he realized he had just witnessed his oldest friend's death, that Jack had broke his promise to Crutchie. He had sworn he'd get Crutchie out of here alive and Crutchie had died.

Bitterness swept over Jack as he clung to the railing. It had all happened so fast. One moment, Crutchie was there and then the next… With a jerk, the stern of the ship began to sink, Jack could feel the giant hunk of metal disappearing into the icy ocean. He knew that he wouldn't get out of this, not alive. The _Carpathia_ still hadn't shown up and probably wouldn't until it was much too late. Jack glanced up at the stars, finding comfort in the small pinpricks of light. He wished he had his notepad with him, wished he could paint this moment. If he focused on the stars and the way they blinked and how he'd translate that miraculous beauty to a page, Jack could almost forget that he was about to die, that Crutchie was dead. If he focused, Jack could almost hear Crutchie asking him, "How long will I have to wait?"

"It won't be long now," Jack whispered, feeling the icy water lap at his ankles, the cold shocking him into immobility. Jack clung to the railing, ignoring the numbness that permeated his body. "It won't be long now, Crutchie."

* * *

 **So, I hope you liked it. :) My question for ya'll is whether you want a sorta-sequel, where you get Katherine's point of view about everything that happened. I set up a couple things in this story for it and I know what would happen, but I don't want to write it if no one would want to read it. So, shoot me a message or review or send a carrier pigeon if you'd be interested in something like that. Thank you all so much!**


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